


Art College AU

by gudetama (elementary)



Series: Prompt stuff [7]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Student Newt Scamander, Author knows nothing about art college, Drama Student Percival Graves, Fluff, Inaccuracies, M/M, Meet-Cute, Non-Sexual Bondage, Photography, Shibari, or shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 02:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: Art student!Newt searches for a model for his photography project so who else can it be besides Percival Graves?Part 2: established relationship, shibari





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [If you'd like to see what they look like](https://sssilkworms.tumblr.com/post/170638665783/hello-i-love-art-school-au-gudegudeland) (art by sssilkworms

“What do you mean, ‘Not a chance in hell,’?” Newt whines.

“I can’t believe you even asked in the first place,” Theseus’s voice rings through the speaker. “You do realize how pathetic that is, yes? And besides—” he continues over Newt’s spluttered protests, “—how nicely do you think _those_ photos will turn out?”

Well, he got him there. “It’d be crap.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that, but yes.”

“But I don’t know what to do, Thes,” Newt sighs, hanging his head and scuffing the ground with a foot.

“The city is big enough; I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Theseus answers carelessly.

“Thanks a lot,” Newt retorts with a bit of—okay, a lot of sarcasm. But he’s speaking to a dial tone and he sort of wants to throttle his brother.

Newt goes back to the bench where his knapsack is and flops down on it, putting his head into his hands with a groan. So much for his courageous attempt. People are just not his thing, for studying or otherwise, but Newt had decided to take a leaf out of the book of some of his favourite photographers and practice photographing living, breathing human beings. Even if only to confirm he’d rather not.

And his brother just shot him down without an ounce of mercy.

He wallows in a bit more self-pity before nodding to himself, and stands with determination. Bag over his shoulder and camera secure on the other one, Newt starts walking without a specific destination in mind, having some time before his next class. It’s almost a cliché how beautifully the sun shines upon the greens of the park and it makes his fingers twitch against where they rest on the camera bag, his eyes already capturing at least twenty different sceneries he can snap at various angles.

He ends up spending a good hour that way—unable to resist—before he gets too hungry, decides to go grab a bite of food then return for different lighting. Except Jacob wants to catch up when he visits his favourite café and it distracts him from his original intention; so by the time Newt remembers, he’s already almost back at school.

Debating between fiddling around with his camera some more or borrowing one of the school’s to snap some film photos for the next set, Newt strolls through the building at leisure instead of using the elevator up to his department in hopes that a fellow student might catch his eye. Some in the lounge areas recognize him and nod or wave in greeting to which he waves back shyly, still a little uncomfortable at actually being noticed. Relatively speaking; compared to his high school days when he kept his head down to avoid the mean-spirited ones. And everyone else.

He wanders down the hallways of art rooms, some empty, some in the middle of class, all doors closed and radiating silence. That’s why the one slightly ajar towards the end draws his eyes unconsciously. Newt means to pass it like all the others and continue, but there’s fabric rustling and shifting within and it’s the first noise he has heard besides his own footsteps so curiosity nags him to take a peek.

Through the small crack, sun spills past the vertical edge of the door across the tiled floor, long-reaching and broken up by shadows of objects. It casts beautiful light into the room and onto some canvases on easels. From what little he can see, Newt wishes he was outside this moment seeing how it illuminates the surrounding greenery in the courtyard. More rustling startles Newt out of his musing and he quickly turns away before he’s found out.

His unshouldered bag strap gets caught on the door’s handle without him knowing, not until the door slams shut behind him too loudly. An aborted sound escapes him even as he thinks, ‘oh _no_’, twisting awkwardly to get it untangled with one hand grabbing onto the jamb. Once done, he means to open the door again to apologize to whoever is inside but as with all thing he attempts to do carefully, his clumsiness asserts itself. Newt trips over his own foot and the door swings wide open and his grip on the knob is the only thing that keeps him from sprawling onto the floor.

His knees hurt and his face burns hot.

“Oh my god, oh god, I’m sorry, so terribly sorry,” he babbles while trying to scramble upright. “I didn’t mean to—”

'Interrupt’ goes unsaid when he finally sees.

A man atop an elevated platform in the centre surrounded by canvases and space and light, a very beautiful one at that—black hair pulled back into a short tail at the neck with some strands artfully hanging loose, dyed almost red by the glow of the sun, eyes lightened to amber underneath strong brows, two moles in a vertical line down one cheek on an otherwise clear, unmarred face. His roundish nose and slightly pursed lips complete the look as a youthful ensemble and Newt continues his gaze downwards, a soft green shirt that’s thin enough to cling to noticeable muscles in the right places, legs covered by loose cream pants and feet adorably bare with nails trimmed neat.

Newt’s fingers twitch against where they’re on his knees, brain desperately signaling a need to press down on a shutter and store this image in front of him permanently for his viewing pleasure.

“Who are you?” a feminine voice calls sharply.

That’s when he notices the other person walking up to the platform—an equally beautiful woman, dark-skinned with light hair and distinct features. The man is her model, Newt realizes a bit late as she stands almost protectively near him with a brush held menacingly in her hand. She doesn’t look happy; neither do, but the man seems perplexed as well.

Oh bollocks, Newt has been staring like a complete creeper after barging in and not even explaining himself.

“Sorry—” and he finally gets himself up of the ground. “It was my bag, it pulled too hard and then I tripped so I—I—” Newt takes a breath, another, as his heart tries to beat itself out of his chest from mortification and his face feels too hot, vision starting to blur—

“Hey, hey there,” Newt vaguely catches through steadily numbing awareness. A hand is on his face and another holds the left wrist gently, a thumb stroking just on the inside. “It’s fine; it was an accident, right?”

The voice is soft and encouraging, calming Newt a bit; he doesn’t know when he dropped his head, but he lifts it again as his mind clears some and finds concern staring back at him.

The model.

“Oh,” Newt gasps. “Oh, um…”

“Are you alright?” the man asks, a frown on his lips and between his brows.

“Y-yes, yes,” Newt nods awkwardly as he reddens for a different reason. “Thank you.”

“Percival.”

“Just a minute, Sera,” Percival—what a nice name, just like the knight Newt once read about—says over his shoulder before turning back. “Here—” and before he knows it, the hand on Newt’s wrist slips down to grip his hand instead and the other nudges Newt to turn a bit, moves to between his shoulders. Newt just about internally combusts at the casual contact, and almost misses Percival teasing, “So you don’t fall again.”

There’s nothing malicious about it which is rather surprising to Newt who is accustomed to more harmful intentions behind words. They walk side-by-side out the room into the hall where Percival withdraws altogether and stands to face him.

“I’m so sorry,” Newt apologizes earnestly. “I know you shouldn’t be moving—oh, your friend—”

“It’s fine,” Percival shakes his head with a kind smile and oh, Newt suddenly wants to see it behind his viewfinder. “We were just starting. What’s your name? Since you heard ours.”

“Newt.”

Silence.

“Newt,” Percival repeats dubiously.

“Short for Newton which I don’t like very much,” Newt shrugs. “Um…” He gets momentarily distracted by Percival’s bare feet, toes wriggling likely due to the cold floor.

“Alright then; I’ll see you around, perhaps,” and Percival starts moving out of his vision.

Newt’s hand automatically shoots out and grabs the end of sleeve, and the material feels as soft as it looks.

“Actually,” Newt says, bravely meeting Percival’s surprised gaze. “I was wondering if, if uh, with my camera, I can take you.” Percival looks at him strangely, then Newt realizes what he just said. “Your picture! Photos of you, I mean. Sorry.”

It feels like his blush is never going to go away at this point, he thinks miserably.

“You’re looking for a model, I take it,” Percival says and he seems quite amused. “Why me? There are others, I’m sure.”

Newt belatedly releases him and the man crosses his arms—toned, indeed. “Well, people aren’t usually my preferred subject, but I think you’re quite beautiful.”

To his astonishment, Percival seems taken aback by his answer as if he didn’t expect it; surely the man knows he’s attractive, no? And weirder yet, his cheeks pink slightly. It’s a bit cute, actually.

“I’ll think about it,” Percival mutters, not quite looking anymore.

Newt blinks, having expected a rejection for certain. “Oh, yes, please do.”

* * *

The next day during a free period, Newt treats his friend to coffee and tells Jake excitedly about what happened and how he accomplished it by himself even if it was just asking, but then he realizes that they didn’t exchange any contacts nor did he ask whether Percival is even a student here.

“What is it?” Jake asks.

“I screwed up, that’s what,” Newt groans. “I don’t know if he goes here or if he’s a professional. How will I find him again? Oh, he must have just said that to get me to leave; I was a stranger, an intruder, after all. Otherwise, he could have offered, too, you know?”

“Geez, Newt, slow down before you choke on your own words,” Jake laughs. “By the way, that reminds me: another friend of mine is planning to join us for lunch today. Is that cool with you?”

“Who?” Newt questions, already nervous about meeting someone new.

“A family friend of sorts,” Jake says vaguely. “We weren’t in contact after they moved away but the son came here to attend the school for theatre. Funny thing, actually; he told me a cute photographer guy barged in on his part-time job yesterday and he doesn’t know how to find him.”

Newt just stares disbelievingly at his friend’s knowing grin as the words slowly process in his mind.

“Oh, there he is now—”

And when Newt turns around, sees Percival standing there in a fitted white t-shirt and jeans, he almost breaks into hysterical laughter at how cliché this is.

Percival smiles something shy and waves. “Hello, Newt.”


	2. Chapter 2

Newt can feel his face starting to turn red from the sheer incredulity with which Percival stares at him.

“We’re really going there, huh.”

“It sounded better in my head,” is his poor, stumbling excuse, as if ‘May I immobilize you with sturdy rope and take photos from various angles in the privacy of a studio’ can sound decent in any altered format. “It’s nothing kinky—well, it is in some sense, I suppose—mostly art. Aesthetics.

“Yes,” Percival draws out the syllable, “that tends to be our excuse for everything unconventional we do around here.”

“Shut up,” Newt mutters, but can’t keep his frown when his boyfriend grins at him.

“I’ve heard of it,” are Percival’s unexpected words.

Well, not completely unexpected. They go to the same school, after all.

“So…” Newt hedges, hope rekindling.

Percival shrugs. “Why not? Sounds like a good time.”

* * *

In the name of research sessions, they meet up often—the library, Percival’s flat, some obscure corridor in the school—with their laptops and multiple tabs open on Chrome.

“As if you two weren’t joined at the hips already,” Sera comments, who thankfully doesn’t poke her nose as to what they’re researching.

They look through hundreds of images and tutorials, compare rope materials and even what colour would best match Percival’s complexion. Newt takes into careful consideration hypothetical settings based on how much and types of lighting and thinks of the intimacy and privacy of Percival’s room where he has access to both natural and artificial light as well as furniture that can be utilized without qualms about sanitation. Percival agrees.

“I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to drilling a couple hooks into the ceiling for suspension shots,” Newt muses while on the floor of Percival’s living room, laptop on the coffee table and chewing on the end of a pen.

“Stop that,” Percival swipes it then smears it on Newt’s cheek. _Gross_. “And no, since I’m on lease. And it isn’t the sturdiest of structures. Maybe next time when we find a more permanent residence together.”

At first, it doesn’t quite register because of the deceptively light tone, but once it does, Newt’s mouth falls open as he stares at his boyfriend.

“You—with me—not pulling my leg, are you,” he stammers. “You’re staying? After?”

They haven’t explicitly discussed their futures, specifically in regards to their relationship. Being years ahead, it would have been easy for Percival to graduate first and go ahead, not really obligated to consider Newt. And so, Newt had stayed true to his philosophy of not worrying, instead enjoyed whatever time he could spend with Percival. This, therefore, comes as an extremely pleasant surprise.

“I feel that I have a good reason to,” Percival mutters while not looking his way, uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. “There are lots of opportunities here and I can easily pick up jobs to work while I apply to places. If you’re alright with it, that is.”

Newt’s answer is to knock his boyfriend onto his back and kiss him breathless.

* * *

“I have to say, this is easily in my top five of strangest things I’ve ever seen.”

“This is nowhere near my top five of strangest things I’ve done,” Newt reveals. “I suppose we balance each other.”

‘This’ being the tying of rope into intricate knots and loops onto a mannequin in the staff room of an empty café while Jake watches with mild horror.

“You lead a rather tame life if you find this odd,” Newt laughs.

“Just because I’d prefer not to bring ropes into my relationship with Queenie—”

“It’s _art_. How is she, by the way?”

“Good, good,” and Newt can hear the smile in Jake’s voice. “I’ll be meeting her parents this coming weekend.”

“Oh,” Newt pauses in the middle of a knot, looks up at him surprised. “That’s great! It’s getting serious, then?”

“I sure hope so,” Jake mutters, shy and uncertain.

“They’ll love you, I know it,” Newt says, fusing as much encouragement as he can into his voice.

“Right, of course they will,” his friend smiles. “I’m the one she chose.”

“That’s the spirit,” Newt returns the smile before refocusing on finishing the knot.

“For real, though, you’re actually going to do this to Percival?” and Jake is back to sounding sceptical and uncomfortable.

“Try not to think about that,” Newt advises wisely as he tightens the final bit.

It’s another couple sessions in Jake’s store before Newt suggests he practice on Percival.

“I trust you, Newt,” Percival shrugs to which Newt replies, “I’d rather not take chances that I might cut your circulation off somewhere.”

Newt takes to browsing for hours online to compare different products. The cotton rope sounds appealing initially but a quick search on Google reveals it not to be good for beginners. And then he debates between handmade ropes on Etsy and starter kits from specialty stores, and nearly ends up joining a BDSM forum to find the answers to all his questions.

The final choice is a starter hemp kit from a reputable online store with decent ratings, complete with a short tutorial dvd. When it arrives, he insists that they watch it together and isn’t deterred even when Percival jokes that all they need is popcorn and it’d be a regular movie night. But they do pop popcorn and settle in to view it after dinner. His boyfriend falls asleep halfway, and Newt would be laughing if he wasn’t so focused on the information being presented. After it’s done, Newt kisses Percival awake and rolls him off his lap so they can apply what (only) Newt has learned.

It takes some tries. Some thinner skin gets caught and pinched, there isn’t enough length to reach the next part so he needs to start over, he ties too loose and then too tight (“You didn’t actually need to cut off my circulation to prove your point.” “Shut up, Percy.”) Newt also learns quite quickly that he needs much more lotion for the delicate skin of his palms than expected.

So when they are able, they meet for an hour or two at Percival’s place for Newt to test the tightness, material, and strength of ropes and bonds, make notes on what to keep and to change. Figuring the logistics of this process completely removes any sexiness, Percival once sighs in a bored tone; but he grins when glared at because Newt did suggest that they take a class instead and had been shot down. Yet every time at the end of it, Percival stretches himself languidly to release some tension before pulling Newt to him and putting that lovely mouth on his, running strong fingers through his hair and sighing contently. And then Newt goes with a bit of a nudge and lies back on the floor or the bed depending on that night, lets himself be held and kissed until he needs to leave.

* * *

And then finally, they’re ready.

Truth be told, Newt wants to try more patterns and colours even as he tells himself to keep it simple, torn between wanting this photo session to be perfect and assuring that there will be a next time. In the end, he settles with simplicity when Percival tells him that he doesn’t think he can handle too much at once for which Newt apologizes for not thinking that far.

The session starts like all the other practice ones they’ve had: stripping, stretching, soft petting to relax them both. But there’s an underlying tension that Newt can’t quite shake off and it manifests through double-checking everything from the rope’s condition to his equipment, clearing the space in Percival’s living room another inch in case he can’t manipulate every space as he’d like. He has water and energy bars and a set of blankets and racks his brain to see if he missed anything until Percival calls his name softly and snaps him out of an endless spiral of thoughts.

“It’ll be fine. And fun,” Percival says, standing naked in front of Newt save for his usual brand of confidence, and pats his cheek. “Good?” Newt nods. “Good.”

Percival then goes to lay himself on his front on the prepared sheet-covered mat, presents a sleek, gorgeous line of smooth skin and muscles. It’s easy for Newt to let his eyes follow from the rise of shoulders along the spine, down into a shallow dip at the base just before a perfect set of firm globes, followed by a stretch of toned legs.

Newt swallows then breathes, sees Percival’s knowing look before approaching the alluring sight with ropes in his hands.

“Alright, sit up, you,” he says a bit roughly and watches his boyfriend put on a show of doing so.

Percival just might be the death of him.

“I have to say, we’ve effectively destroyed the novelty of this,” Percival remarks minutes later, utterly calm for a man being tied up in hemp by an amateur.

“Unfortunately, practice does make perfect,” Newt responds dryly even as he checks the man’s state with non-verbal signs.

He slips his fingers between skin and rope and gauges while he makes his way from knot to knot, columns of burgundy slowly drawing patterns across a soft, pale canvas. They’re simple binds running horizontal along his chest and shoulders then winding around the arms and holding them bent at the elbows with one over the other parallel behind his back. As a final touch, Newt tousles Percival’s loose hair to let it fall around his face, obscuring just enough to make him seem shy but having the eyes visible, dark and penetrating.

Percival stays like that when Newt leaves him, sitting up straight with his torso bound but legs free. His side faces where Newt crouches with the camera, legs half-crossed at the ankles with the one closer to Newt flat on the floor and knee bent out and the other folded up against his stomach. It discreetly covers certain areas, teasing at a hint of what’s behind the broad thigh.

It’s perfect.

Newt inhales and takes the first shot.

After a few, he requests for Percival to lay his head sideways atop the higher knee like using a pillow, first turned away from Newt then facing him. He moves to the opposite side and asks to repeat the poses. In one of them, Percival smiles slow and sensuous and some dark strands hanging over get caught on the stretched lips—it stops Newt’s heart for a second even as he clicks on the shutter.

“You’re beautiful,” Newt mutters breathlessly despite not having moved much himself. “Doing wonderfully, love.”

He captures the blush that paints Percival’s cheeks at the words and the embarrassed roll of the eyes before they curve again, pleased.

They try lying back. Percival groans quietly at the pressure on his arms when Newt helps him down and shakes his head at the attempt to raise him again. The elevation at the middle of his back forces him to arch and his hair spills messily onto the white sheet. A bit too messy, and Newt says as much as he tries to fix it.

“Remind me to never ask you for hair advice,” Percival laughs.

Newt grabs a couple of the bust area, close up and from straight above. He shuffles back and asks if Percival can keep his upper half still and twist his hips and legs with one over the other away onto the side. Percival grumbles about this not being yoga but he complies easily in an unexpected display of flexibility.

“Oh my god,” Newt gasps, snapping away. “Have you always been like this? Why didn’t you say?”

Percival snorts. “What, like “Hey there, I’m Percival Graves and I’m bendy”? Also, are you supposed to talk this much? This really isn’t sexy.”

“I’ll fold you in half and spank you afterwards. How’s that for sexy?” Newt retorts and grins at Percival’s choked noise. He lowers his camera. “Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t know this.”

“Shut the hell up, Newt,” Percival huffs and turns his hips back with another groan and rolls all the way until he’s fully on his side facing Newt.

“Oh,” Newt breathes, raises his camera again. “Okay, that’s good. Shutting up now.”

In the quiet, there’s only their breathing and the shutter of the camera, a bit of rustling when either of them have to move. But the overall atmosphere calms and they get lost in the tranquility and stillness that is the art of intimate photography, heightened further by the already established intimacy between them.

Percival steadily goes lax as time passes and Newt is no longer thinking, only pressing the button as his instincts guide him.

They stop for a bit of a break and Newt wraps Percival in the prepared blanket and gives him water and a fruit bar. They don’t talk much, somehow the energy of the session calling for wordless interactions. The only words spoken are the instructions Newt gives as he applies more rope, from binding folded legs to attaching one to the arms at the back accompanied by hums of approval and appreciation.

And when it’s over, Newt sets the camera down and crawls over to where his boyfriend lies. He leans over him with elbows on either side of the head for support and stares at the soft face of contentment. And he can’t help but mutter a heartfelt ‘thank you’ against Percival’s lips and brush his hair back, caress the backs of his finger along his jaw.

Percival blinks once, twice, and the lighting has those dark lashes fan out and create long shadows over the tops of his cheeks. “You’re welcome; now get me out of this already,” he says with gruff shyness.

But as soon as he’s loose, Percival inhales sharply, holds himself strangely as he turns away. It fills Newt with dread as he demands what’s wrong, tossing the rope away before hovering over the man.

“Just a bit sore,” Percival gasps. “Pins and needles.”

“Here, let me—”and Newt takes the closest arm in reach and applies pressure along it.

Percival grunts at first but then he sighs and slowly uncurls. Then it’s the other arm and shoulders and neck, Newt massaging the tension out of them even though he’s a bit sore himself, especially his hands from all the tying. Despite his boyfriend’s protests, Newt massages the legs, too, and then he finally flops over next to the man. They lie together sprawled on the sheet as an exhausted mess, and though Percival is right there, beautifully naked and relaxed, not a single sexual thought crosses Newt’s mind.

“Yeah, definitely not sexy,” Percival says.

They stare at each other for a moment then simultaneously burst into giggles which grow into full-blown laughter and has them snorting and holding their stomachs.

“Let’s not do this again,” Newt huffs after they’ve calmed down, lying on their side and facing each other. “It was nice, don’t get me wrong, but it’s good enough as a one-time experience.”

“Damn it, Newt,” Percival frowns. “I should get a chance to tie you up, too.”

“No way,” Newt responds without hesitation, and leans in to kiss away the adorable pout that forms.

Then they fall quiet again, simply watch one another until their eyes open and close with some difficulty. With significant effort, Newt gets up and finds the blanket from earlier and tosses it over them both. Scooting over, he gathers Percival into his arms, smiles a bit at the way the man burrows into him and tugs him even closer by waist. Percival mumbles something sleepily and he doesn’t repeat it when Newt asks; he only gazes up at Newt silently for a minute before kissing him, soft and loving.

“Good night,” the man whispers and smiles which Newt returns happily.

And in each other’s arms they find warmth, peace, and sleep.


End file.
